The Suitcase of Courage

Summer Starts Now!(?)A Week of Ridin' Racin' & Relaxin'

As we headed north to East Hartford for Sunday morning's race, we had the car packed, the top down, the VeloCast playing on the radio, and I thought to myself - "Summer starts this week."  After far too many race cancellations due to weather, and an unseasonably cool & rainy spring, it's seemed like EndlessApril.  But with two races and the Summer Solstice in the last six days, things finally seem to be turning around.

Last Tuesday the 19th was only the second time I've been able to do the Tuesday Night Crit at the Rent' so far this season and Sunday's race at the Keith Berger Memorial Criterium was my first "actual" race since the Bethel Spring Series way back on April 15.  Between the funky weather and house/yard projects, I've been riding less lately than during the height of my work season - about twice a week on average since April.  Fortunately, despite this lack of riding, I was able to finish both races.  Unfortunately, each race was, for me, pretty unremarkable.  I still have some snap, but don't have the legs to back it up.

Tuesday's race was all about getting reacclimated, but it was hard to practice pack racing when things were so often strung out.

I chased down a few attacks and was even in the mix - albeit at the back of the mix - for the field sprint.  A break had gotten away with Dave and Todd in it, so we were able to just do our best to cover attacks and hold on.

The break eventually lapped us and Dave (I think?) got the win.

Here's the finishline video - though it's a bit confusing between the lapped riders and the break going through the pack.

 

So that was Tuesday.

Wednesday night was non-bike related, but lots of fun.  The Mrs got together a picnic and we went to our town beach to watch the sunset.  But not just ANY sunset - THE sunset.  We were able to watch the sun go down at the end of the Longest Day of the Year.  Summer - at least according to the calendar - started last Wednesday.

Thursday morning I got another nice taste of summer, literally.  Friend Otto is in town from Amsterdam (we actually grew up together in the same hometown, but only met a few years ago) and we were able to get out for a nice ride along the coast, out to Blackpoint and Niantic.  What for?  Well, not only for the ride itself and the company, but to try out a little breakfast place by the beach.

I'm finding that I'm enjoying rides that include a bacon, egg & cheese sandwich at least as much as racing.  I wonder if it's not only lack of miles that explains my lack of fitness lately...

I had planned on getting some major miles on Friday, doing the Friday Morning Throwdown and then riding on into Hartford, but it didn't quite work out that way.  Good thing friend SteveB said he'd meet me in my driveway at 5:50am, otherwise I might have just rolled over when the alarm went off.  As it was, though I did do the FMTD, I bailed on riding into work.  Interestingly though, I got to work about 15 minutes after I would have by riding my bike.  Note for future reference.

Saturday dawned with rain, so I bailed on the bike again opting to help my friend Randy with a home improvement project.  By the time I finished and got home (of course by then it was beautiful out %^), I had just enough time to get the grass cut before family arrived for dinner.  I chalked it up as a "rest day" - as if I really needed one.

So when I woke up Sunday, with the sun shining and a race looming, I have to admit I wasn't really looking all that forward to it.  The race I mean.  I may someday do a post on "Racing Ennui" especially because it's been such a hallmark of this year's season.  But the routine is - thankfully - becoming pretty apparent: not be in mood to race, go to race to at least to see friends, kit up and race, feel great at the end (even if only for having done a workout).  Sunday fit this mould, but with a few differences.

First off, it was finally warm enough to debut "MY" t-shirt - a Christmas present from Mrs. Suitcase (courtesy StomachOfAnger.com).

Secondly, the Keith Berger Crit is an exceptionally well-run, and well-attended race - a staple of the Connecticut racing scene and a fitting summer opener.  This year it also hosted the state crit championships and even though I had absolutely no aspirations or expectations for that, it added a lot of extra buzz to the race.

Thirdly, and of course, it was nice to see friends that I don't see all that much except during the summer.  Not only my great teammates (who I'll see throughout the year), and former CVC  teammates (CVC hosts the race), but R&R, Esteban, AnthonyE, and even the officials (who do the Bethel Series too).

Yes, once I get going, no matter how much I'm not-all-that-looking-forward-to-racing, my mood changes.

See?

So, the race.  As I said, it's one of the "must dos" of the season and just about every crit racer from southern New England is there.  Last year, the P123 race sold out.  I don't know the numbers yet for this year, but they looked very good.

Of course, the spectacular weather helped and just about 60 of us lined up at the start.

Teammate Jeff

Teammates Joe & SDC

The race itself played out about as I expected, though I found that I was ATB more.  Yes, At. The. Back.  I just didn't want to use up any precious energy moving up, opting to sit in as much as possible.  It didn't help that going through corner 2 the first couple of laps, my rear wheel kept slipping out.  I eventually realized that it was the melted tar patch that was so slick, but the thought that my tires were losing air nagged me the entire race.  I treated the corners gingerly - and paid with lost position and having to sprint to catch back on each time.

This, along with my lack-of-miles, fed my low race expectations. 

But when you're on a team and have teammates in the race, no matter how you feel or how little a chance for personal glory you have, you can always do SOMEthing to contribute.  My contribution came a little past the half-way point after a break had gotten up the road - and none of our guys were in it.

It was time to chase.

Fortunately, the Mrs. caught me starting up the left side through the start/finish, committed to getting to the front and driving the pace.  Once I got to the front, the pain - though still demanding my attention - didn't seem so bad.  I could choose my own line through the corners, and took all the road I needed.

Bonus on the backstretch - teammate BJ yelled "I'm right behind you Chris."  Fortunately, I recognized his voice and, knowing that getting BJ into a break was Plan A for the day, I put my head down and tried to get him as close as I could.

Through corner 3, through corner 4 - I was still on the front going through the start/finish.  But after corner 1, I was cooked, having gone full gas for almost a lap-and-a-half.  BJ came around me and scampered forward to the break.

He made it - and it looked for a (long) while like the break would stick.  But as the laps cards flipped down to the single digits, the strong men that were left behind chased hard to bring it back together.  And bring it back they did.

We were gruppo compatto with five laps to go and I was feeling ok, but not great.  I figured I could sprint - but being around for the sprint would be a bigger ask.  So when teammate Jeff motioned me to get on his wheel, I declined.  No way could I go hard for 5 laps, trying to hold his wheel.  But regretting that decision - and getting a second chance when SDC came around with only 2 laps to go - I jumped on.  He led me up the right side down the back stretch and by the time we hit corner 3 we were within striking distance of the front.

But my race ended on corner 3.  No, fortunately, not THAT way.  I was on SDC's wheel, hitting the corner hard, and my earlier corner-phobia got to me again - so when a guy came in hard on my left just as we hit the apex of the turn, I eased off so he wouldn't run into me.  Sure, it was self-preservation, but I lost the wheel.  (Note to self: practice bumping & holding wheels.  And pump up your tires harder.)

After that, things just got faster, I'd lost my motivation along with whatever legs I may have had left, and just hung in for the finish.

Here's what it looked like at the front:

 

Congratulations to CCB for winning the race and to CLR for capturing the CT Crit Championships (again?).

As we cooled down and changed in prep for the (absolutely required) after-race meal, we watched the Masters race.  Now, I don't mind saying that if I had the form I had back in March or April, I probably would have done this race too, even though it started right after the Cat 3 race.  But no way was I going to put myself through that on this day.  I was content to just watch.

It was pretty amazing.  A breakaway group of 6 formed - including our own EXPO teammate DaveH - and got a sizeable gap.  And I mean SIZEABLE.  They were away for most of the race and even with the, perhaps inevitable, cat & mouse games at the end, they still had almost a minute on the field at the end.

Speaking of the end...

 

Congratulations to Team Danbury Audi for the win and to Dave for his podium placement (and first CT racer to cross the line).

Lunch with A&A(&K!) and R&R afterwards, and then dinner with mom for her 65th birthday, capped off a pretty awesome day.

As I gear up, literally and figuratively for another race at the Rent' tonight, I think I may have discovered at least a partial remedy for lack-of-racing motivation: race more races.  Tonight's race will be my third in a week and I'm happy to report that, unlike last week, I'm really pretty psyched.  It's funny how inertia works, and all too often to our detriment.  An object - including a person - at rest tends to stay at rest.  But an object/person in motion, tends to stay in motion.  If Isaac Newton were a racer, he'd probably offer as a corrollary to his First Law - "a person who races will tend to keep racing."

My lack of racing these past couple of months has had its effect.  Whether this "rest" will actually end up being a good thing remains to be seen.  But suffice it to say, with the start of summer - and the kickstart provided by regular races - I know I'm already looking forward to more.

Mailbox Tales

This mailbox has a story to tell - you know it by the little flag that's raised.  I took this picture early one recent Friday morning.  That's the sunrise coming through the trees.  It was through that sunrise that our story began.

You see, I often - though certainly not as often as I should - wake up extra early on a Friday morning to meet the guys for the Friday Morning Throwdown (FMTD) ride.  They come from the north and materialize through that sunrise as they ride down my street.  Since it's a "throwdown" they come down my street pretty fast, so I usually - though not always - try to get out ahead of them so I can at least warmup.

After missing each other a couple times (once I waited, not knowing they'd already gone past; once they waited, not knowing I'd already left), we decided on this simple, yet effective, signal:

Whoever gets to my mailbox first, puts up the flag.

Once we began to rely on this signal, it made for a couple of funny situations.  Once, a friend met me in my driveway before the ride and, being distracted, he and I headed out - forgetting the flag.  After waiting down the road - for what seemed like an inordinate amount of time - the guys finally showed up.  They'd been soft-pedaling thinking I was behind them.  Ooops!

Another time, I was coming out of my garage just as two guys flew past.  My first thought was - boy, only two guys - small group today.  My second thought was - HEY!  they didn't put up the flag!  So I put my helmet on, clipped in and chased for all I was worth.  I finally caught them about a mile later, me all breathless and dripping sweat.  You guessed it - they weren't FMTD guys.  The redness of my face wasn't just from over exertion.  But we had a good laugh about it.  And the guys eventually caught up with us (toodling again, since I hadn't bothered putting up the flag before chasing).

This morning presented a new variant, but it was my own d----d fault.  With all the crappy weather lately and not having ridden much, I'd been looking forward all week to doing the FMTD and riding into work afterwards.  The forecast was perfect.  I got home at a decent time last night despite working late.  I even woke up on my own, 30 minutes before my 5:30 alarm - sun streaming in through the windows.

But I stayed in bed, going 'round and 'round and 'round in my head, weighing all my options and not at all motivated for a hard ride, much less riding almost 60 miles by the time I got to work.  No motivation.  I needed sleep.  I needed to ride.  Etc. etc.  Many of you may know this drill.  I even made a couple false starts, only to get back under the warm blankets, snuggling up to the Mrs.  That certainly was nicer than the prospect of having my legs ripped off and fighting cars all the way to Hartford. 

It was too late though.  I was wide awake and there were no excuses that would let me really, truly off the hook.  I got up one last time and started getting ready.

Not quick enough, as it turned out.  Either my clocks are just a wee bit slow or the FMTD was a wee bit fast this morning, but I saw the guys go past my living room window just as I was picking up the bike to head out.  NOOOOOO!!!!!!  One kind soul did stop to put up the flag (bless him), but my raising the garage door wasn't enough to stop any of them - they probably didn't even see it.  I saw one straggler - who I thought might be Tim (though why he was OTB I couldn't imagine) and yelled his name.  To no avail.  I was going to have to chase.

Just as the garage door closed I realized I left my CatEye on the living room table.  Usually, this is not a problem.  I had my Garmin.  Problem is - my Garmin mount's retaining tab is broken off and the CatEye holds the Garmin in.  I opened the garage door and went back for the CatEye.

Now I really had to chase - and chase I did, going full gas from my driveway until I caught "Tim" almost 2 miles later, nobody else in sight.  Turned out it wasn't Tim at all, but fellow FMTD-er JoeD.  The guys were "just ahead," though I couldn't see them.  I told Joe to get on my wheel and we'd try to catch up.

Going all out, we didn't see them until we turned onto Great Hammock's long straightaway - and they were a LONG way off still.  I still had illusions that we could catch them, but by the time we reached the 4-way stop (which, as it happens, marks the start of the "FMTD Leadout & Causeway Sprint" Strava segment (ARGH!)), we realized we'd never catch them.  We pulled the plug, turned left on Maple, and went from "Rescue" to "Recovery."  Now, all we could do is try and intercept.

We finally met up in North Cove, huzzahs all around and with stories to share.  It certainly didn't seem funny to me as my heart & stomach were in my throat while chasing, but in the cool light of the morning and in the presence of the rest of the gang (finally), the persistence of my pre-dawn procrastination was pretty hilarious.  I'd certainly paid the penalty and was happy to noodle along and follow wheels for the rest of the ride.

Once we all got back to Chester, we said our goodbyes and offered good wishes for a great weekend and Father's Day.  Strongman ShawnM (aka el Presidente), accompanied me as far north as his place in Higganum and then I was alone.  Except for a mile or two when my path crossed with Joan, riding to work as well, who I'd met a couple summers ago during a home-bound commute.  It was nice to see her again.

I had to do the usual car-dodging and traffic-fighting through Middletown and part of Cromwell.  But after that, due to my new-found northbound alternate (thanks to JeffM), it was all farmland and cool breezes.  Actually, a pretty stiff headwind, but whatever.

I remembered while lying in bed, debating whether or not to get up and ride, saying to myself: "Just do it - you've never regretted it and if you regret it today, just don't bother doing it again."  Well, as you can see from the pic above - typical scenery along my alternate - it was a gorgeous morning.  I got to see some friends - some unexpectedly - and I finally got a Friday ride in again.  No regrets.

Here's to the beginning (finally) of summer, to long rides, fast races, and time with friends.  Let me know if you're in the area, and I'll hook you up with some of the best riding around.  But come next Friday morning, if you see my mailbox flag up, you'll know I've already left.

******

For the more numbers-minded, here are the stats - in all their gory detail, including the warmup/chase.

Rest Day Writing

 

January is the month of New Year's Resolutions and many of us promise ourselves to be better, do better, live better.  We want to lose weight, get fit - both financially & physically - do more of what we enjoy.  But as the days and weeks go by and the new year isn't so "new" anymore, we discover that the success or failure of our good intentions often depends on our time and motivation.  No time after work to exercise?  Are you motivated to wake up earlier to workout before work?

 

I'm lucky in that I have plenty of motivation for exercise - I can't let down my teammates.  And I make the time for it, especially this time of year, because my first race is March 4(!).  But I'm much less successful finding time and motivation to write posts for this blog - especially when there's no racing to write about.  Finding time and motivation for our resolutions is critical - but sometimes a solution is staring you right in the face.

 

Enter "Rest Day Writing"

 

I've posted before about the 12 step week program I follow for winter training.  It's a series of varied trainer workouts which is ideal given the vagaries of New England weather and, if I start on time, it takes me from the first Monday of the New Year right into the heart of the Bethel Spring Race Series.  It's a periodized training schedule and always includes at least one rest day per week - Monday.  Since my workouts are usually after work, Monday evening includes a time slot when I'd normally be on the trainer, but ain't (sic).  So I just discovered the perfect time to wash my cycling clothes and memorialize (even if only for my own benefit) my training/life from the previous week.  So while these posts may not always be terribly exciting, I hope at least that they'll be more regular and help me meet my New Year's Resolution to "Write More for my Blog."

 

In that spirit, I'll bring us up to speed.  I just finished my first month of training and it's had its ups and downs, but - fortunately - mostly ups.  After my first workout - which is supposed to be "easy" I just about passed out.  Yes, I know - pathetic.  I even skipped the REAL "first workout" which was supposed to be a "Threshold Estimator".  I've never been quite able to figure out how hard "hard" is.  Which comes first - the threshold number at which you're supposed to ride, or the ride during which you're supposed to estimate your threshold number?  It started to make my head hurt, so I decided to do the first - "easy" - workout.  And promptly bonked at the end.

I was beginning to think I had my work more than cut out for me for 2012.

Added to that, part way through my second week of training, I had a bad reaction to some antibiotics and ended up in the ER.  Fortunately, I wasn't there for long and just had to wait for my system to clear out, but I ended up having to repeat that second week.

But since then, things have been going much more smoothly.  My weight isn't coming down as quickly as I'd hoped at all, but at least I'm starting to feel better on the bike.  And I did my first threshold test on Saturday, completing my first training cycle.  The first test of the season is always the toughest, especially mentally.  I always psych myself up wondering whether I'll be able to do it again this time.  Thankfully, I was and did.  My threshold HR is actually up a couple beats from this time last year, but I'll have to do a little research to figure out whether that's good or bad.

Main thing is, I'm 1/3 of the way through my winter training.  My first race is under a month away and I'm getting my miles in.  Mostly indoors.  339 for the year so far.  And I got 40 of those miles in yesterday during my first outdoor ride since Thanksgiving weekend(!)  The days are even getting longer.  Go figure.

I know it happens like this every year, but each year I get older I'm a little more surprised when things start coming around.  Each year, that seems to happen just a wee bit later than the year before.  Maybe I shouldn't lay off the bike for so long around the holidays.  Thankfully, I have a whole wonderful year of riding and racing to look forward to before I have to decide that.

How are your resolutions going?  Finding it tough to get on the bike, whether indoors or out?  Spring will be here before you know it, so think creatively about how you can shoehorn in a little extra time and motivation.  Like rest day writing, you may be pleasantly surprised at what you find.

New Year, New - um - Me(?)

"New Year, New You" is a title you see everywhere right now.  Unfortunately, it's ubiquity is easily surpassed by its deceit.  Too few of us truly recreate ourselves, despite the new year.

But that doesn't mean we shouldn't try.  Discouragement is the enemy.  Persistence does in fact pay off.  If you don't believe me, then watch this blog in the coming days and weeks.

Cycling & blogging-wise, I've fallen off the wagon these past few months.  As I just mentioned to a coach/friend, my off season is truly & absolutely "off."  My butt hasn't been on the saddle since Thanksgiving weekend.  In fact, this is my odometer as I type (on my "analog" training log):

 

Look familiar?  Yeah, just 16 miles more than the pic in my last post from December 6.  I didn't know that "20,000 mile" ride would be my last of 2011, but even so I rode a total of 4,465.23 miles last year - right about where I usually am.  I don't want to think of how many more miles I could have ridden, especially with the unseasonably mild December weather we had.

Ah well, at least I can honestly say that I think the time off has done me good.  I'm REALLY itching to get back on the bike.  And just in time - training starts tomorrow.  Here's my bike tonight - changing out the wheels to my trainer wheels.

Whether the time off has in fact done me good won't be known until my racing season starts - less than 9 weeks from now, in  Bethel, CT, first Sunday in March.

But I have more than my usual racing season motivation this year.  I always want to do well - or at least be able to hang in with the pack.  Racing's certainly more fun that way.  This year though, we are going to have an absolutely AWESOME Cat 3 team.  I'm not giving away any secrets - just stating a fact.  That's not to say that we're going to get great results (though hopefully those will come too), but the guys we've put together for 2012 are going to be an absolute blast to race with and work for.

To be able to do that though, I have to get my butt off the couch and back on the bike.  And with the start of winter training, I'll be updating this blog much more often.  So be sure to check in here when you can - and drop a comment if you're able.   The New Year may not mean a "new" me, but with your encouragement it should at least mean an "improved" me.

A Miles Milestone & Other Activities

After the Turkey Day Ride, I did an increasingly rare two-fer - saddling up Saturday the 26th for my second ride in three days.  I must admit I spent almost as much time watching my odometer as I did watching the wheel in front of me.  It was the usual off-season loop - done "backwards" - but as we went over the bridge shortly before the right turn onto Great Hammock Road (and the shoreline), I finally saw what I'd been waiting for...

That's twenty THOUSAND miles on the ol' Cannondale R900.  My wife got me this bike as my ten year anniversary present way back in August, 2005 and I rode my first century ever (accidentally) the following month.  I took up racing in the spring of 2006 and have pedaled just about every two-wheeled mile on this frame.  The wheels and some of the components have changed over the years, but it's the same bike.  And while it's not as jazzy - or anywhere as light - as the latest plastic carbon bike, its aluminum frame still gets me where I'm going, sometimes faster than anybody else.  Any sluggishness is definitely symptomatic of my middle-aged frame, not the bike's.

And I don't mind pointing out that that's 20k ROAD miles - it doesn't include all the many miles I put in on the trainer during the last six winters (though it does include some miles on the rollers).  So it actually only works out to about 3-4,000 miles per year - nowhere near the totals some of my teammates rack up - but it's quite an accomplishment just the same.  Especially considering how much I've abused it in races and such, it's still going strong.

Here's hoping I can eek another 20 thou out of it!

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In other news.....

The long Thanksgiving weekend saw not only two bike rides, but the "official" kickoff to the 2011 Christmas Season.  And in our little corner of the world, that not only means Christmas lights....

 
.... but Christmas lights on boats.

This is the 2011 "Trees in the Rigging" boat parade on the Connecticut River in Essex.  Ever since moving to the area, we've been meaning to see this and finally got to it this year.  After a more traditional parade down Main Street, everybody goes over to the old steamboat dock to watch the boat parade pass.  It's a hotly contested event - and even two kyakers showed up this year - but it seems to be more for the benefit of the tourists than the locals.  When the announcer asked who came from less than 5 miles, the Missus and I were the only ones we heard yell.  Most folks came from over 50 miles away to see this festive flotilla.

With village strolls, tree lightings and even our own steam-locomotive-powered Noth Pole Express train, there is certainly plenty to see in the area.  But this past weekend we decided to be tourists ourselves and headed to Cape Cod for the day.  It's one of our favorite places on the planet and we enjoy it no matter what the season.  It's certainly less crowded than the height of summer, but Christmastime has its own attractions.

Like a decorated lighthouse(!)  This is Chatham Light, all decked out as if the spinning beacon weren't enough to let Santa know where to be sure to stop.

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So this is the nadir of the cycling season for me.  I was seriously considering starting my 2012 training yesterday (the first Monday in December) - REALLY I was.  But, alas, motivation has all but deserted me.  The first Monday in January should be just as effective, though I'll have to psyche myself up to actually start training on my birthday.  Birthday LT Test?  Yes, please.  Ugh.

However, in the past few days there have been some developments on my team that make me VERY excited about next season.  Very excited indeed.  Of course, I can't share any details with you right now.  But suffice it to say, after a "holding pattern" of sorts during 2011, I'm really looking forward to the races in 2012.

Thanks for your patience as my blog has been relatively quiet.  Rest assured, it'll ramp up again as I dust off the trainer and the rollers for the upcoming winter.

In the meantime, I hope you're having a wonderful holiday season so far with you and yours.  Get out to ride while you can - and if you do, keep an eye out for me.  You may just catch me out there too.

Rent' Race 4 Rainy

Given all that's gone on the past few days, I didn't know whether I'd feel like racing Tuesday night.  But as I've mentioned many times before, the Rentschler Field races are a much-anticipated regular staple of our summer schedule.  So, once things started to settle Monday night, talk turned to what to do about Tuesday night.  We figured we'd at least want to go to see our friends, whether or not I raced or the race itself was canceled due to, um, Rain.  So I packed up the car - better to have my stuff and not need it than vice versa.

It's true that time heals and I didn't feel as bad on Tuesday as Monday ('course, that wouldn't take much).  I figured I'd at least go to the race, suit up and sit in.  Especially since the temperatures soared into the 90s - it'd be the hottest race so far this season.

Friends were great and supportive, a real comfort to us, and as I got ready I told them - and myself - that this race, given my diminished motivation and the high temps, would be a perfect one for just sitting in and getting a good workout.  Mrs. SOC and I didn't mention much about Rainy, neither of us wanting or needing to put any pressure on me to perform.

But any such pressure there might have been would have been totally deflated by seeing somebody with a Stars & Stripes jersey headed to registration.  Of course, we all wondered who he was and whether he was in fact a National Champion of some sort, or just a lowly Cat5 who didn't have any other kit.  If we'd been closer, we'd have seen the shape he was in and known right away this was no Cat5, but current amateur Elite National Champ Dave Wenger.

Heh - No need to worry about performing.  My goal now was just to be able to hang on.

 

So we lined up, EXPO teammates dotting the pack at the start, ToddB getting proper props from the promoter for his win on Sunday (Congrats to our own State Masters Crit Champ!).  TimU launched from the gate, and the race was on.

After a few inevitable attacks and counter-attacks, DW and RonL/CCNS got away and held the high pace we were all expecting.  At first, given the strength in the break and the hot weather, it didn't seem like the pack was all that motivated to chase.  The break got 3/4 of a lap on us and some of us (well, I) was just waiting for the inevitable lashing lapping.  It didn't help matters that the increase in pace spit a lot of guys out the back and there weren't many of us left to chase.

 

But, for whatever reason, whether due to the yelling out of timegaps each time we passed the start/finish, or Max's urging, we finally got organized and started chasing.  To the credit of all the guys left in the chase group (15 maybe?), we kept things very smooth and steady, each doing our turn at the front.

 

And gradually, slowly but surely, the gap actually started to go down.  Even two strongmen will find it hard to stay away from an organized and motivated pack.  And since I was still around and part of this group, my plan to "sit in" - while not totally going to plan (I was hurting a lot more than I'd planned to) - was succeeding.  I did my turns at the front, but by just hanging on, I - along with the rest of the chase group - were gaining on the break.

 

Besides the time gap coming down, there were something like five field primes that kept us motivated.  Thinking of Rainy and how much she was a part of my racing & training, I decided to try and go for a couple of primes.  I knew given the horsepower in the race, not to mention how I was feeling, that I didn't really have a chance for the overall win, but I figured I'd be able to contend a couple of "stages" - primes are the "crit equivalent" of stage wins in my mind.

 

And I won two of them, back to back.  At first - and both times - I thought I'd screwed up, that somebody else won them and I was sprinting for nothing, because it seemed like the rest of the group wasn't contesting them.  So I crossed the line each time with a pretty large gap.  Only afterwards did I confirm that I did in fact win.

After each time though, I had to go into survival mode to make sure I didn't get dropped.  The pace of the chase remained high and each time I pulled off the front, I found it more difficult to catch back on.  But SDC doused me with some ice water a few times and that helped HUGE.  But while I felt much better with each dousing, the time left on my legs was running out.  And as the lap cards started counting down from 5 to 1, I just about gave up.  In fact, I think it was about 3 to go, I just sat up and let the group go by, cooked.

But I heard someone - dunno whether it was Laura, Mrs. SOC, or Ann - yelling at me to hang in there, so I dug just a little bit deeper.  Fortunately, for whatever reason, the chase group slowed just enough so I was able to catch back on.  In an extraordinary stroke of luck, they'd caught DW and eased slightly.  But that allowed Ron to attack and come in for the win:

 

I hung in there and, at least according to the video, came in 5th or 6th.  Awesome, I thought, all things considered.

 

At the end of the day, I couldn't just sit in at a Tuesday Night race - not this night's race especially.  There will be - and are - times when I'm just not in it, got no legs.  But if I can, I'll race and do the best I can with what I've got.  And last night, I had just a little extra motivation.  All due to a little Tortie cat who I loved dearly and who's collar adorned one of the two little prizes I won in her memory.

Corny?  Yeah, a little I admit.  But sometimes we find our sources of motivation in the unlikeliest of places.  And when you're feeling less than your best, you'll accept that motivation no matter what its source.  I, for one, can't think of a better way to show how much a part of my racing Rainy was - and, in her own way, will continue to be.

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Garmin data here: 23.4 miles, avg speed 26.4-27.2 mph

Risky Business: Team Arc-en-ciel Newhouse Criterium

After racing five Sundays in a row, two races each Sunday, I was looking forward to one more Sunday of racing before taking a break.  But all week Sunday's forecast looked bleak and I started to steel myself for some rare-for-me rainy racing.

I also figured that I'd better get in some good, hard miles in case I couldn't race.  So Thursday after work, I took a risk and headed for the hills.  Uncharacteristically, I planned on hitting the steepest, longest climbs I could find along with some other local hills.  Unfortunately, I missed a turn at one point and ended up with all the hills between me and home - and I had to be back by a certain time.  The resulting TT effort back - not to mention the brutal climbs themselves - totally shredded my legs.  BION, that was the hardest day I'd had on the bike all year so far - racing included.  And the next morning's Rooster Ride (always a slugfest brisk ride) wrung out whatever was left.

 
Here are some charts from my hill route

So while one part of me wondered how - or even whether - my legs would recover in time for Sunday, the other part of me secretly hoped for a Biblical deluge that would, if not cancel the race, at least make it totally impossible for me to participate.  But Friday night I got a call from teammate SDC - he and his Missus would be able to join us for the races, rain or shine, and bring their cool "team car."  I'd do the Cat 3/4 race by myself and then join SDC for the Masters 35+ later in the day.  That settled it, I'd be racing Sunday, weather be d----d.

I took Saturday totally off the bike to go with Mrs. SOC on a "yarn crawl" in Rhode Island and to visit some local bike shops.  We hadn't been on a road trip together for a while, so it was great to get out.  And Mr. & Mrs. SDC showed up that evening for dinner and pre-race socializing, capping off a just-about-perfect day.  Mrs. SDC's "unofficial forecast" even called for clearing, if wet, conditions for our races.  Nevertheless, we packed multiple sets of clothes for the soaking we expected.

 
 
Packed up and ready to go

It was hard to sleep Saturday night with all the wind, thunder and driving rain.  But - miraculously - we woke the next morning to clouds that were breaking up and sun that was starting to peek out.  Strangely though, the wind seemed to be even worse.  We packed up and headed out, excited about the prospects of the day. 

 
This is us - looking excited

We got to Ninigret in time to get changed and warmed up.  With the increasingly sunny sky, I started to worry that I'd actually be overdressed.  But that disappeared once we were out of the car.  It was WINDY!  With all the windy races I've been in this year, this was by far the worst.  Tents were being blown around, and at one point the announcer told everyone to take their spare/pit wheels out of their bags since they were blowing down the track!  It's always breezy at Ninigret, no matter what it's doing in the rest of Southern New England.  But this was crazy, with gale-force gusts.

 

I lined up with a couple of friends at the back, figuring that I'd sit in and hope for a field sprint - my usual M.O.  I didn't think anybody'd be crazy enough to try and break away in the 3/4 race - and if they did, they'd blow up or the pack would catch them.

 
Part of the pack at the start

Over 40 guys lined up and went off at the whistle.  I was glad that the first couple of laps were relatively easy since I didn't warm up for very long.  But then the attacks started going off, and I knew folks were itchin' to race.  As each attack would get caught, a counter would go and pretty soon I found myself near the back.  "Oh well - My legs must still be recovering from Thursday's hills," I thought.  I did what I could to hang on some wheels, but when the race actually looked like it would start to break up, I knew I had to get closer to the front.

 

Fortunately, after a few especially hard efforts into the wind, I was in the front 1/4 of the race - perfect.  And good timing, as splits started happening behind us and folks were getting shelled by the windy conditions and increasing pace.  We even started to lap a couple of hapless stragglers.

 

It was no wonder the race was blowing up - it was blowing HARD!  A couple of times when we were stretched out, full gas, we'd go around the 4th corner into a strong head/cross wind and have our wheels almost blown out from under us!  The racing wasn't sketchy - everybody handled their bikes well considering the conditions - but the wind made for some crazy corrections and over corrections as folks struggled for shelter while trying to avoid having their wheels swept out by either the wind or another bike.

 
After struggling like this for a while and about 1/2 way through the race, I realized that a 3 man break had actually gotten clear.  I didn't worry about it too much at first, but when another 2 guys attacked and started chasing them - gapping the rest of us - I hoped that the pack would chase (and carry me with them, of course).  I didn't know until I heard the announcer that Bill Yarbroudy - local fastman from NBX - was one of the two chasers.  I also noticed that newly minted Cat2 Kyle Foley - who had animated the race earlier with his attacks - was his companion.  Even to my daft racing brain, these started to look like winning moves.

But "Why isn't the field chasing?!" was the thought most occupying my brain at that point.  Every time we'd string out a bit and put in some effort, we'd come around a corner, into the wind, and the pack would fan right out, slowing down to a crawl.  And the break and chase group continued to motor along, putting over 15-20 seconds into the rest of us.

I did what I thought I could to try and get the pack motivated, doing my best not to miss turns at the front and keep the pace high.  But I'd be dipped if I was going to work so hard while others sat on my wheel (heh - precisely what *I* would most likely be doing myself, if in their cleats).  Fortunately, friends BJ and JM were of the same mind and kept things fast when they were at the front.  But - realists - they weren't interested in towing the entire field either.

After a particularly hard pull - and after having been in a few small chase groups trying to bring the breaks back - BJ pulled off and shook his head when I suggested we go.  I couldn't blame him, the wind was howling and the pack was clearly losing motivation with each lap.

I've mentioned before that I have a lot to learn when it comes to reading races.  So much of doing that well is instinct born of experience and I'm still relatively new at this (or maybe I'm just a slow learner).  Hearing how SDC evaluates race dynamics, factoring in every imaginable condition and variable, makes my brain hurt.  I *wish* I could calculate all that while I'm racing, but I'm usually spending all my mental energy on the basics: "stay on that wheel," "stay upright," "dose your effort."

And if you've been reading this blog for any time at all, one of the things you know about me is that I cannot stand timetrialing, getting into breaks (since I often can't stay in them) or doing solo efforts.  Consequently, I seldom attack unless necessary to help a teammate.  Never for myself.  I know my limits.  At least I thought I did.

So when BJ shook his head and I found myself at the front just as we entered the backstretch, I can't tell you what I was thinking.  All I knew was that I was at the front, heading into the wind, and I didn't want to be there.  There were about 8 laps to go (I figured - there weren't any lap cards) I knew the likely winners were up the road and as much as I wanted to melt back into the security of the pack, I knew if I did I was getting nowhere and all I'd get at the end would be a decent workout.

But if I was just going to get a workout, I was at least going to make it count - and, heck, I might even get lucky and catch one of the breaks up the road.  It took me about 2 seconds from the time BJ drifted back to decide to go for it.  I put my head down and started pedaling for all I was worth!

As I went past SDC, standing on the sidelines, I heard him yell "1000% effort!!" and it was - I hit corner 4 at speed and into the gaping maw of the biting headwind.  And just about stopped - at least that's what it felt like.  The Ninigret track is pancake flat, and after racing 5 weeks at Bethel - often doing over 70 laps up that blasted hill - I just tried to imagine the headwinds as just another "hill" and tailwinds as "descents" - my only chances to recover.  I think that, more than anything else, helped me dose my effort properly and keep from totally blowing up.

 
Me going by a yelling SDC - thanks for the photo ChrisB!

When I cleared corner 4 - the first after my attack - I looked back and, amazingly, saw I had a HUGE gap.  Of course the pack hit the same wall of wind that I did, but without my singular focus they'd fanned out and slowed down.  By the time they strung out again, I'd put 5 seconds into them - and the gap was growing!

 

But it HURT.  I literally put my head down for much of the time, concentrating on putting as much power into the pedals as possible while keeping my legs limited to a slow burn to keep them from totally igniting from lactic acid.  I only looked up often enough to make sure I wouldn't ride right off the track.

I knew this was the "do or die effort" I'd always read about but never had the nerve to try in an "actual" race (as opposed to a training race).  I'm not a risk taker by nature, opting to (over)analyze things until I know I can succeed on the first try.  And if I don't think I can succeed, I don't usually try.  I know a lot of other folks that have the same tendency.  And I know how hard it is to overcome that tendency.  But even more, I knew as I was in No Man's Land between the pack and the break, that I'd either catch them or totally explode trying.  It's a cliche to say "nothing ventured, nothing gained" - and as true as that saying is, it was little consolation as I continued to grind around the track.  All I wanted to do was to catch those guys ahead of me, or at least keep the pack from catching me.

"YOU'VE GOT 15 SECONDS!!  KEEP GOING!!"  I had a cheering section consisting of SDC and friend ChrisB (who'd graciously waited after his Cat5 race to watch), and the Missus' SDC & SOC taking shelter from the wind in the car.  Every few corners, I'd look back and - inexplicably, remarkably - the pack was the same distance back, or just a little further away.  Eventually, I noticed another guy trying to bridge up to me.  "Great - that'd be some help."  But I didn't dare slow down to let him join me.  I knew I was WAY out of my comfort zone, engaging in a risky business considering my natural (or assumed) abilities.  If he caught me (likely, I figured), I assumed I'd be the weaker of the two of us, so why wait?  And if he didn't catch me, then he'd not be much help if I did wait for him.  At least that's all my addled brain could reason.

So I continued to churn the pedals.

"Number 186 is putting in a huge effort - not sure who that is" - I heard the announcer say through the PA at one point, much to my satisfaction.  Unfortunately, legs don't run on ego, else I would have been able to go faster.  One of the big downsides of a conservative racing style is that nobody ever knows you're in the race, unless you get on the podium.  Flying under the radar is a risky business in its own right.  Everybody else wants to get on that podium too, so you seldom have a chance at notoriety - no matter how minimal that may be in The Grand Scheme of Things.  But anybody who races is lying if they tell you they don't get at least a little boost when they hear the announcer mention his name.  And, given the fact I was out on my own for almost 8 laps, I got to hear my name announced more times than during the whole rest of my racing "career" put together.  It was another cold comfort as my legs and lungs started to sear from the effort.  But it was much welcomed and appreciated just the same.

 
It looked like this for a while - Note the other guy in No Man's Land and the pack chasing (pic by SDC - click to enlarge)

10 seconds, 12 seconds, 4 seconds.  Those were the gaps SDC made out between the break, the chase group, me and my chaser.  And they stayed pretty consistent for most of those remaining 8 laps.  On my own, I was going as fast as the pack chasing me, but so were the guys in front of me.  We were all condemned at some level, but at least we were all in the money - provided we could keep the pack from catching us at the end.

And of course, if you've ever watch a bicycle race, you know that the pack - no matter how lethargic it may have been for the whole rest of the race - gets a fire in its belly with a couple of laps to go.  I was racing for 6th place, but the pack was racing for only 8th, and that clearly didn't sit well with them.  By the Bell Lap, my gap - which had stretched out to 20 seconds at one point - was down to 12 seconds.  They strung way out during that last lap, going full gas.  The first break - and even their two chasers - were well clear.  It was only me and the other guy still left to pick off as the pack got the bit in its teeth and started charging hard.

I looked over my shoulder going around the penultimate corner and couldn't believe they were getting so close so quickly.  Of course, I was just about out of gas - and I wanted them to put me out of my misery - but I wanted even more to hold them off.  "I'll be dipped if I'm going to give up now, after I put myself through so much hell."  I dug deeper.

Fortunately for me, coming around that second-to-last corner put the wind a little at my back and after the final corner into the finishing straight I had a full tailwind.  Unfortunately for the pack, there was a cross-wind gust that caused just enough of a brake check to give me just that little bit more.

My legs couldn't lift my butt out of the saddle, but I clicked down another gear, squeezing out of them whatever was left, started sprinting seated, trying to take as much advantage as possible of the tailwind.  As I flogged myself to the finish, I heard a guy coming up on my right.  Not the guy that'd been chasing me into the pain cave, but somebody that'd launched off the front of the charging pack.  No dice - no way I could challenge him.  I let him go by, but I kept pedaling.

As I looked over my right shoulder to see how much of a gap I had over the rest of the field, all I could see were bodies sprinting.  "Chris Adams is gonna hang on though" the announcer said as, from somewhere deep deep down in a place totally unfamiliar to me, I wrung a few more watts out of my pureed legs and threw my bike at the line.

Here's how it looked in Mrs. SOC's finish line video:

 

I held them off by maybe 1/2 a wheel at the line.  I came in 7th, but I might as well have won the Tour de France.

I'd been at my absolute limit, hit the bottom, and dug even further.  My legs, lungs, and even my heart (which I worried about briefly after I crossed the line) were absolutely killing me and it was all I could do to keep my feet turning enough to keep my bike upright as I continued past the first corner.  But as I came back down along the backstretch, past where I'd launched my attack what seemed like an eternity earlier, I suddenly forgot everything but how wonderful it felt.  Not to be done, but to have tried my best.

 Post-race jubilation pic courtesy SDC

For someone whose reach seldom exceeds his grasp, I'd stretched further than I thought possible.  Yeah, it might have been more dramatic if I'd actually caught the break and then went on to win.  But that's the stuff of fiction.  What was real was that I'd taken a risk and - at least as against all but 6 other guys in the race - and with a little luck, it had paid off.

 Heh - it even paid off literally - I treated myself with some of my prize money.

After all that - and probably with an overdose of adrenaline and endorphines - I was already ready to race again.  I lined up to help out SDC in the Masters 35+ race.  But that's another story.  Considering we were racing against the likes of Mark McCormack, it's a (really) short story for some other time.

Suffice it to say that I'm learning a lot from this bike racing thing.  I'm learning how to push myself further than I thought possible; learning that my limits may be beyond what I think; learning that sometimes taking a chance - whether or not it ends up as you hope - is a much better way to live than resting in the numb embrace of low self-expectations.

Risky investments are certainly no way to earn a living.  But sometimes engaging in some risky business is the only way to earn a richer life.

Wonk Fodder:  Cat3/4  http://connect.garmin.com/activity/79915526
M35+  http://connect.garmin.com/activity/79915523

Bethel and Mileage

Anyone that knows me or has read this blog for very long knows that I hate racing in the rain.

So, given the ABSOLUTE DELUGE that happened yesterday, I rainchecked my first race of 2011 - literally and figuratively.

But I did take my bike outside on Saturday - first time it's been outdoors since Thanksgiving, 2010.  Saturday was the Bethel Sweep Day - an annual event where we help SDC sweep and prepare the track for the first race.  I didn't know what to expect, with rain threatening in the morning.  But new teammate JP met me at the house, we loaded up our bikes, and drove over.

It was a testament to how well JP and I hit it off (or - at least as likely - how distracted I get when I'm talking so much) that I actually missed the exit off the Parkway.  But we had an even more scenic detour up Rt. 53 and when we got to Francis J. Clark industrial park, even though I was entering it from the wrong direction, it still brought back a flood of memories.  Not to sound corny, but my eyes got just a little moist as I turned off the main road and onto the track - "It's finally here!  Racing Season 2011 - and Spring is just around the corner!"

Unlike last year, we had fewer people and more work to do.  And the ice was CRAZY.  For more details about our fun Sweep Day 2011 (and, BION, it WAS fun) click here.  After our work was done and we'd consumed some fantastic pizza (courtesy Frank Navone of Navone Studios), we kitted up and went for some laps around the track.  The weather cleared up nicely and we put in over 17 miles of 'round & 'round before we packed it in.

It was really weird to actually have to balance my bike rather than have it held rigid in the trainer.  But they don't say "it's just like riding a bike" for nothing - I was able to balance just fine.  And I could even respond to the not-surprising friskiness of teammates Lance and Paul.  I was glad to discover that my training must be working - I'm just as fast as last year.  But for NOTABLY shorter periods of time.  Hopefully, endurance will come as I put more miles in.

Speaking of miles . . . I've finally updated my mileage totals on the left side of the page (which hadn't been updated since Nov. 26!)  As you can see, I've put in almost 640 miles since January 1.  All but the last 17 on the trainer.  Based on previous years, I'll need to put in another good 400 miles before I feel good and ready to race for real.  Last year, since I was targeting the Bethel Series for the team, I started my training a month early - 12/1/09 - and got all my miles in just as the series started.  But this year, Bethel will be part of my training rather than the first main goal.

So that's why, despite being really psyched to kick off my 2011 racing season, I decided to bow out yesterday.  There'll be plenty of opportunities to race this year - no sense getting all gritty and cold right out of the gate.

BTW, the forecast for this Sunday's race is MUCH better - hope to seeya there!

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Longtime readers know that we have three great cats.  My training partner - Rainy - had a seizure last night that kept us at the animal hospital for a bit.  She seems to be doing ok now thankfully, but we still have a lot of tests we have to go through to figure out what happened.  So if you could keep her in your thoughts and prayers, I'd appreciate it.  Thanks

A New Record!

I can't believe it, but it's been exactly two whole, long months since I last posted to this blog.  A dubious record, for sure, but a record nevertheless.  It's been a very long, snowy winter.

But with the melting of the snow, the tentative warblings of the occasional robin, and the longer days, comes a revived realization that bike racing season is just around the corner.

Like, um, this coming Sunday.

Fortunately, I've been training.  Unfortunately, I haven't ridden my bike outdoors since The Big Bonk.  That would be last Thanksgiving.

And, frankly, my training has been a little lackluster.  I don't mind the indoor trainer, but when I'm watching videos and listening to podcasts that haven't anything to do with cycling, I know that I'm just going through the motions.  I'm glad I've put all those training hours in the bank, but I haven't been all that psyched for racing.  Not like previous years.

Until last night.

I attended my first team meeting of 2011 and it couldn't have come at a better time- just under a week before my first race of the season.  And seeing all the fellas again - including one new teammate that I've been emailing with since last fall that I finally got to meet IRL - gave me a VERY much needed shot in the arm and a huge dose of motivation.

So my 2011 racing season has gone from "meh" to BRING IT ON!

Hopefully it won't be another 2 months before I get around to telling you how it's going.

Turkey Day Ride

 

iPhone photo - vignetting effect from shooting through ZipLoc bag

I finally ended another long hiatus from the bike with a ride Thanksgiving morning.  I'd first heard about the "5th Annual Turkey Day Ride" last week and determined that I would do it, no matter what.

And given this movie  about the ride, how could I not?!  Ok, it's not "Race Across the Sky" but it provided some motivation.

I have to admit that motivation flagged a little the night before as I got my stuff ready, and just about tanked altogether when I checked the temperature the next morning.  But I have what I think is the proper gear - and I wore ALL of it - and I headed out into the cold.

It takes a lot longer to get places in the winter than in the summer.  I'd planned to get to the start place in time to visit a little and maybe even grab a quick cup of coffee.  But as the Chester church chimes rang 8am, I was just making the last turn into town.  I didn't remember how hilly it was to get there - those certainly didn't even seem like hills a few months ago.

After the usual pleasantries and catching up with some folks I hadn't seen in a while, we headed off.  A little too briskly for my comfort right about then, but having been on a few group rides before, I figured it would settle in.

Maybe it did, but it certainly didn't feel like it to me.  Of course, it didn't help much to allow myself to be sucked into a few especially hard efforts near the end.  I'd already been sucking a bit on the ascents, steadily sliding backwards each time the road pointed up.  But I figured I'd at least be able to hold my own when some steady, flat (or even downhill!) pacelining started.

I was wrong.  My last effort - which, frankly, pales in comparison to my memory of last summer's efforts - pretty much cooked me.  Completely.  Stick a fork in me - I'm done.

And I mean REALLY done.  The remaining 10 miles or so went by in a haze that was a combination of me trying to figure out what was wrong and seeing my remaining riding companions inevitably fade in the distance as I did what I could - if not to keep up - at least limit the damage.

I'm not sure if I actually bonked - I don't think I've ever bonked, so I'm not sure what that's supposed to feel like.  But I *do* know that I hadn't eaten during the ride as I usually do, so I scarfed down a GU.  No effect.  Kim gave me a poptart, that helped a little, but I still couldn't seem to get any energy from anywhere.  All I really wanted to do was get off my bike and take a nap.  At least when I wasn't feeling too woozy.

But riding buddies are some of the best friends you'll ever have.  They clearly held back their pace to keep me from falling behind and kept up light conversation as if nothing strange was happening.  And they encouraged me with reminders that form comes back, I haven't been riding, etc.  All the same things I'd be telling them if the roles were reversed.

Despite the last hour or so, it was a good ride.  It was really great seeing a lot of the faces from summer and getting a chance to catch up a little.  And riding the backroads of New England can never be a BAD thing, no matter how bad you might feel.

So special thanks to Shawn for putting the ride together, Kim for the poptart and encouragement, Pete for all-but-pushing-me-home down Bokum Road, and to all the rest of the gang for sharing your Thanksgiving morning.

I'm already looking forward to next time.

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For all the gory Garmin data, click here.